


Flower Meanings

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some anniversaries, even the painful ones, are worth taking note of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Meanings

Dean comes into the motel room and immediately has to do a double-take, because there’s a colorful bunch of flowers laid out over his pillow, and there’s no way those were there when he left to go get food. His eyes shift to Sam, who’s propped up in the other bed reading, pointedly _not_ looking at Dean, and Dean blinks at him.

Sam fidgets for a long minute, and then finally snap the book shut with a sigh. “Oh, _what?_ ” he finally mutters. “What? Say it already.”

Dean stops bothering to hold back the smirk. “Seriously? I always knew you were a giant girl, Sammy, but _seriously?_ ”

Secretly, Dean loves Sam’s bitchfaces. He does his level best to bring them out any time he can, and he’s getting a pretty epic one right now. He’s pretty sure Sam would be throwing the book he’s holding at Dean’s head if it wouldn’t be breaking some kind of Nerd Law.

He drops the food on the bed, picks up the flowers, a grin tugging at his lips. It’s a bouquet like he’s never seen, scattered and not picture-perfect like he sees in the stores, but better for it’s imperfection. “So was the blowjob last night really just that good, or have you been thinkin’ of popping the question?”

This time, the book does get thrown, and Dean laughs long and hard until he catches the expression on Sam’s face a minute later. He sobers pretty quick, and Sam sighs. “It’s been two years, Dean.”

There’s no stopping the way his muscles tense, the way his heart all but stops beating. He swallows, placing the flowers gingerly back on the bed, all humor forgotten. “So…since when do we celebrate the anniversary of you going to Hell?” he mutters, and gets another bitchface for his effort.

“That’s not what this is,” Sam says. “It’s not…I wasn’t with you last year, and I should have been, and I’m sorry for that. More sorry than I’ll ever be able to say. But it’s a day worth celebrating, Dean. We saved the world together.”

“You saved the world, Sammy,” Dean says quietly.

“I couldn’t have without you.” Sam shrugs, looking self-conscious. “Anyway, I just…they mean something, all of them.” He waves a hand at the flowers. “The chrysanthemum, for truth, because it wasn’t until the end that I was able to tell you. The heather, for protection and for admiration, because in the end, that’s why I did it…not for the world, but, well, _for_ you…for my big brother. The zinnia, for remembrance, for…all of it. The forget-me-not, because I’ve felt this way as far back as I can remember, and that meant something bigger that day.” He quirks a smile. “The single red rose in the middle, that should be pretty obvious.”

His heart squeezes in his chest, warmth flooding him, and damn it, Dean hates chick-flick moments, but Sam has a way of bringing them on right when he’s not expecting it. He looks at the flowers again, picking them up once more, his thumb tracing the rose petals idly. “What about these smaller ones on the edges?” he asks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a bouquet with that particular flower before.

Sam’s smile widens, his eyes glinting as he stands and carefully takes the flowers from Dean, places them back on the bed. His hands frame Dean’s face as he leans in and kisses him, and he puts everything of the last two years into that kiss. Beneath the press of it, Dean crumbles and is rebuilt in the same breath, and he makes a small sound as his arms come up around his brother.

Against his lips, Sam whispers. “Nasturtium. For victory in battle.”


End file.
